


Starting Anew

by Passionate_Angel



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Grief, Happy Ending, Hinted torture, Implied Sticky Sex, M/M, Mech Preg, Mechpreg, Mpreg, Past-Miscarriage, Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2650607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Passionate_Angel/pseuds/Passionate_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You left the Wreckers, you left the Autobots, and then you found me. You said you'd never leave me, no matter what. Guess Primus didn't get the memo.</p><p>(Basically my take on the ending of the TFP movie. It has now become a series of snapshots set post-war.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Basically what would've happened in Transformers Prime: Predacon's Rising if I owned Hasbro...but sadly I don't, so all the credit, other than 98% of the plot here, goes to Hasbro (the maker of MLP...how are they alike?)
> 
> Hey look, Passionate_Angel wrote more Breakdown/Knock Out! Served with Ratchet/Optimus Prime (season two and three = I totally ship this) And this time it's a "short" story! And it's her first time writing TF smut...and a story that doesn't have fan characters (which she found to be strangely easy) and this has nothing to do with the poem she wrote...it's just a story she's been hoarding for the past month and a half due to...um...unknown reasons...
> 
> Out of third-person writing now...just one note before you continue, I've seen the term "Intended Bond-Mate" used in other works before, but I'm using it in a different way and not as an "arranged marriage" kinda thing. Basically it's the Cybertronian equivalent to a "Soul Mate".
> 
> If you haven't seen the Predacon movie, don't read, click (touch for tablets/phones/any damn Apple device) that bloody back arrow right this instant! And...WHY HAVEN'T YOU SEEN IT????...Anyway, enjoy!

Like a volcano erupting, sparks burst from the Well, yet unlike a volcano the final result won't be death, endings and destruction, it'll be life, beginnings and creation.

"Above all, do not lament my absence, for in my spark, I know that this is not the end, but merely a new beginning." 

We all stare in a mixture of awe and delight at the red spark that flies gracefully towards us, it radiates the familiar feelings of honour, determination and kindness. 

"Optimus," Ratchet whispers, cerulean optics alight with happiness at the sight of his Bondmate's spark.

"Nothing can bring down a Prime!" Smokescreen punches the air, grinning with pure triumph.

"Simply put, another transformation," and with that the spark rockets away to join the others.

"He's no longer a Prime," Bumblebee chuckles and smiles, "But it's still Optimus."

A cry of delight catches my attention along with everyone else's, we all turn to see that Arcee has moved a few meters away from her previous position. She stands with her back to us, arms stretched out and palms facing the sky. The two-wheeler turns slowly, expression one of absolute joy with coolant trickling down her cheeks as she bends her elbows to bring her servos closer to her chassis. Floating above each palm is a spark, the left one purple and the other dark green.

"Cliffjumper and Tailgate," Arcee whispers, her frame shaking with happiness.

Bulkhead suddenly stumbles back as about half a dozen different coloured sparks dance around him. He laughs and swats at them playfully, missing them on purpose. 

"H-hey there guys, stop that, c'mon now, go out there and find yourselves frames," he chuckles, but they don't move, they float there as if they're waiting for something, the green Bot's optics widen and he grins, "oh, almost forgot." 

He looks at Wheeljack who nods, smiling in understanding, they both curl their left servos into a fist and punch their right palm, then shout in unison: "Do it Wrecker-Style!"

At the sound of their words the sparks dance about excitedly, then dash off with Arcee's friends in hot pursuit.

"Looks like we'll be seeing all our old friends soon," the grumpy medic actually manages to crack a faint smile and everyone nods in agreement.

"Knock Out?" Smokescreen's vocaliser sounds distant as I take a few steps towards the Well.

I stand with my pedes three meters from the edge, staring at the shooting lights as I wait. Even though I know it's vain.

"Breakdown," Bumblebee sighs.

The name brings coolant to my optics, I growl and wipe it away angrily, "H-he was on Earth when he...so I guess he's not here."

"But so was Cliff," the femme puts a comforting servo on my shoulder and gives me a halfsparked smile, "and you said that his frame also had Dark Energon in his lines. They were in the same condition when it happened, and Cliffjumper's spark is here, so his will be here too."

I clench my denta and run a claw over the plating that protects my torn, mourning spark, "It hurt, it hurt so much when the connection almost broke, it's still there though even though he...he..."

I curl my servos into fists as my intakes become shaky, the memory of the pain that crushed my spark that day still fresh and laughing at me in my processor. It's rare for the Bond to stay completely intact, I guess it's just because of the rotten luck that plagues me that it happened to me.

"Wait," Ratchet walks forward and stands on my other side, the sympathy in his optics sickens me as he whispers, "he...he was your...your Bonded?"

"And Intended Bondmate," my frame begins to shake even more at the memories that are surfacing as everyone gasps, I don't need their pity, pity can't bring back what I really need...Breakdown.

I'll never hear his deep laugh again, never have him stand by me as I ask for another tool while operating and never flirt with his adorable, oblivious self. I'll never see that cocky smirk before a battle, never be able to sit on his lap after a stressful work day as he calms me with a much needed buffing. I'll never feel his servos explore my frame, never feel his lips clash against mine, never hear his vocaliser cry out with my own in the stillness of the night. I'll never feel his digits entwine with mine as we fall into a peaceful recharge, never curl up to his chassis as he carries me to the berth, never tilt my helm forward so that our forehelms touch and never look into those bright, golden optics.

I'll never hear him whisper those three words, words that are so meaningless apart, but bring wave upon wave of emotions when used together in perfect harmony. I'll never feel his spark merge with mine, never fell his being wrapped around mine, or mine around his. Never. Again.

I break. 

My legs give in to the feeling of hopelessness that has washed over my frame, processor and spark all at once, it pulls me to my knees. Coolant pours down my cheek plates with no way to stop it, yet all I can muster in the consuming anguish is a soft, meek whimper and light sobs. The blue Bot kneels down on one knee. She gently rubs my shoulder, but I don't feel it. Her lips move as they form comforting words, but I don't hear them. The world around me is blurred, I glare at the lights with envy, they all get to see their loved ones again. Why am I the only one that Primus has condemned to be alone? Yes, I was a Con, but I changed, I deserve a second chance just like the other Bots.

It's just. Not. Fair!

With a cry of agony I slam a fist onto the ground and place the other servo on the cold metal. Arcee flinches and removes her servo from my shoulder. I look down at my servos and curl my claws into the ground. It hurts, oh Primus just end me now! I can almost feel him, am I dying, is the pain finally getting to me? It's almost like his spark is pulling mine from my chassis, calling to it.

"Holy slag," Smokescreen whispers.

"Knock Out," Bumblebee mutters, "Knock Out, look up."

Brushing the tears away I do as he says, processor too numb with pain and sadness to think for itself.

I look up.

The familiar colour glows before me, the green light surrounded by wisps of red slowly bobbing up and down on the spot patiently. I lean back and sit on my heels, kneeling before the spark, my processor in a daze. It feels too familiar, it's all there, every essence of him.

Warmth

_Another gust of snow filled wind roars past the cave mouth._

_"S-slag it's c-c-cold," my hiss comes out as a weak stutter, I wrap my arms around my frame and pull my knees up to my chassis as the night-cycle creeps up over the horizon._

_Why did we have to scout for Energon on an ICE PLANET?! Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that we found a cave to spend the night in, but we wouldn't have had to find one if we weren't sent here and if the Vehicons hadn't fragging lost us!_

_"Primus, you're so fussy," the blue bruiser chuckles and rolls his optics, his larger frame is able to hold more heat and for longer periods of time than mine, so he's not feeling the cold as much as I am, lucky slagger, "you know you can just ask."_

_I twitch as strong, cozy arms engulf my frame and pull me close to the broad, blue chassis. Slowly the shivering ceases, my intakes work evenly again and I can't help but hum with content as I settle myself into the familiar embrace._

_"Th-thanks," I mutter, burying my face against his chassis in an attempt to hide the energon that's pooling beneath my cheek plates._

_He places a soft kiss on my fin and hums, "Anytime love, anytime."_

_It was the first time he said the 'l' word to me._

Protective

_I yelp as an Autobot pins my helm beneath his pede, with a snarl I try to get my cuffed servos out from beneath me. I make a fruitless attempt at kicking him, but I'm immediately reminded of my torn right leg. Snarling in a mixture of pain and panic I resort to glaring defiantly at the Bot's toes, which are hovering over my optics._

_He just laughs, "This is kinda sentimental, for me that is, first Con kill actually; Megatron's CMO at that."_

_"Well yippie for you," I hiss back, then screech in agony as he buries the barrel of his gun in the torn cabling of my leg, he laughs again. I hate to say it, let alone_ think _it, but he'd make a great Decepticon._

_"Lay off fragger!" a familiar vocaliser roars as a large blue frame slams into the young Bot, who hits the ground with a loud crash, off-lining him temporarily._

_"Took you long enough," I groan at the throbbing ache in my limb as he gently scoops me up and cradles my frame with one arm._

_"Got caught up deactivating the other Bots while I was trying to come and rescue you," he stares at the multiple wounds, that cover nearly every inch of me, with worried optics, "Knocks...what'd they do to you?"_

_"Um...rough...interrogation," I try to push the fresh memories of torture out of my processor, but I lose with a shuddered sigh and curl up against the familiar frame, seeking the comfort that I need more than anything._

_The warrior growls, optics narrowing and his denta grinding together in repressed anger. With me still cradled in his arm he marches up to the Bot who's just coming too._

_The blue mech lifts his gun with his free servo and pushes the end of the barrel to the Bot's helm, right between his optics._

_"You'll fit right in at the bottom of the Pit, ya damned piece of scrap metal!" my partner snarls and fires._

_It was the day he became a true Decepticon, but he never did it for the cause, he did it for me._

Patient

_He waits, we're in a war after all, so he waits. I can see it, the way he shifts uncomfortably even though we share a berth, even though I tell him I love him. It's suicidal to Bond, I know he has the patience to wait, but I don't._

_I groan, his glossa rubbing against my audio receptor teasingly, "Breaky."_

_He smiles at the nickname that I only use when we're alone, "So impatient."_

_"It's...it's not that," I mutter, even though it is._

_I've got to ask, if I don't then I'll regret it for the rest of my life. Especially if he gets deactivated and leaves me alone at the end of this war. Yes, I say I love him, but that's nothing compared to asking_ the _question. Offering everything you are to the one you love from the very core of your spark. The Autobots believe that we Decepticons are incapable of feeling love, they have every right to think that, which is why what the ex-Wrecker and I have is something beyond special._

_"What is it Knocks?" He moves back and waits, curiosity filling his optics._

_"I...I can't wait anymore!" I growl, emotions crash through my spark like a meteor impact as I fling my arms around his neck and pull him into a deep kiss._

_Eventually we both pull away, sparks racing and intakes shaking._

_"Knock Out?" the curious, questioning look continues to stare at me._

_I bow my helm and rub my brow against his, "I love you more than it's safe to admit anywhere else but here. I know you're my Intended, I know we're in a war, I also know that either of our sparks could be extinguished any orbital. Don't make me regret anything, I want every part of you, not just you're frame. But I also want to give everything I am to you. Be mine and let me be yours, be my Bondmate."_

_I offline my optics and wait for what seems like an eternity. Was it too much, did I take it too far?_

_The blue mech chuckles, "Haha, I thought you'd never ask."_

Tender

_So gentle, so tender, so...so kind. None of my past partners treated me like this, they saw my frame and heard my vocaliser, which always led them to assume I was in no way different to a needy pleasure-bot. Always so rough, grasping, clawing, wanting more than I could ever hope to give. He's only like this with me, and I'm only like this with him. Anywhere else we have to act like friends, but in this solitude and the silence of this night-cycle we can let our charade drop, here we can make the love that we feel for one another a reality._

_My frame rocks slowly with his, pedes scuffing on the berth every now and then whenever he changes his angle. Our breaths mix as his forehelm rubs against mine, tilting his helm to place a soft kiss on my lips. The grip on my hips becomes a little tighter, the angle changes again and my frame shudders as I keen softly, arching into his touch. My claws drag down his back as I allow myself to let out a whimper of need, a shiver runs through my frame and my servos grip his shoulders._

_"Breaky, please."_

_"I've got you," a servo ghosts its way up the side of my frame, leaving it for only a moment so that it can entwine its digits with mine._

_My pedes lift off the berth and wrap around his waist, I remove my servo from his shoulder, letting it rest beside my helm on the pillow. He grips it tighter, optics begging, telling me that he can't keep this slow pace up forever. I'm being selfish. I tug him down for a kiss, letting the action show that he has my permission. The blue bruiser lets out a soft groan of thanks and the servo on my hip lifts my lower frame a little higher. He sinks further into me, the force of it pulling my hazy processor into a suspended state of ecstasy._

_"Ah, y-yes!" My back arches as the sensation of him filling me destroys every other feeling in my frame, my thighs press harder against him and my heels dig into him, keeping him deep inside me._

_"D-dammit Knock Out," he groans and pulls me into a passionate kiss._

...Loving.

_I've had a few partners, been courted by a couple of mechs, but none could compare to him. None ever will. All they wanted was my frame, he saw past that, he knows me better than I do._

_"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," I curl up closer to his chassis, hunting for the comfort of his beating spark, his servos grip a little tighter and pull me to what I seek, a silent confirmation that he's here for me._

_"It's not your fault Knock Out," he sighs, kissing my cheek as he massages my audio receptor, "you've been stressed lately, it's not your fault, these thing happen."_

_Words so comforting, optics so loving, yet tone one longing and sadness._

_"Y-you wanted a s-s-s-...sparkling so badly," I sob, clinging to his frame, just needing to feel that he's still here, "I'm so sorry that...that...I...I lost-"_

_"Shh, it's ok Knock Out," the blue mech kisses me again, this time a light brush on the lips, "we can try again. I still love you, I always have and nothing will ever change it. Not even this."_

_"...Thank you, thank you," I murmur over and over again as he rocks me into a comforting recharge._

_~No Knock Out~ he whispers through our Bond, ~Thank_ you _. When I left the Wreckers I didn't have anything else to fight for, I had nothing to live for. You've given me a reason to keep pushing on, to keep my spark beating. I'm here for you love, always here for you, and I'll never leave no matter what~_

"Is it...?" Ratchet doesn't finish the sentence, possibly not wanting to cause me anymore pain by saying the name.

"Breakdown," I whisper, joy, relief, and a thousand other emotions well up in every corner of my spark as I cup my shaky servos and the green Spark bobs forward, resting just above my palms. I can almost hear his hum of content.

I bring the orb of light up to my lips, the spark quivers as I sigh over it and my mouth tingles at the feeling of his energy field being so close to mine. But I want to feel him, his comforting touch, his tender kiss, and hear his deep laughter fill my audials.

"It's in the Nemesis...find me," I whisper.

He darts away, making a straight line for the wreckage of the Deception warship. I transform, engine roaring with life for the first time in what feels like an eternity, and race after him.

**********

(Six months later)

"It goes here!" Bulkhead snarls, snatching the building material away.

"No," my mate growls, "you always get it wrong!"

"Breakdown, there you are," I huff and storm over, "you're meant to be resting."

"Listen to the Misses, Breaky," the green Wrecker chuckles.

"And you," I jab a digit at him, smirking inwardly at his frightened, guilty expression, "leave him be!"

"The both of you need to rest!" Ratchet calls up from the ground.

I look over the edge of the platform and glare down at the other medic, "Tell the lug-heads that!"

"Breakdown," Optimus walks over to stand by his mate's side and crosses his arms behind his back, "please come down so that Knock Out will. I do not want the life of the first newspark created since Cybertron turned dark to be put in jeopardy."

"Oh please," I snap, fully away of my fluctuating hormone levels, but not caring about them since my anger is now aimed at Optimus, "I'm barely two months through!"

Ratchet opens his mouth to answer, but his prepared lecture is cut off by my yelp. Breakdown laughs and hauls me over his shoulder like a sack of raw Energon and strides down to the ground with the biggest grin on his face. Arcee laughs and the humans, in their highly unfashionable spacesuits, join her. But the laughter is promptly cut off as I yelp again, aft stinging from the strike of the Wrecker's servo. Raf looks at Cliffjumper to ask why the blue mech just did that, Jack's face flushes bright red as he turns away and shuffles from one foot to the other, but Miko's reaction is the worst.

"Get in there Breakdown, you tap that aft!"

~Primus I love you Breakdown, even though you're a real cheeky fragger~ I purr at my mate.

~Love ya too Knock Out~ Breakdown chuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, the story behind this one is as follows:
> 
> I did a marathon two school holidays ago, said marathon was watching all the TFA episodes within two weeks and three days. I finished them (I sadly fell in love with Prowl as well as the Prowl/Jazz pairing and had to go through the agony of the last episode...I can't be the only one who cried?) and had six days left, so I watched TFP. I finished and noticed that the TFWiki said that there's a TFP movie! I searched everywhere and found it, watched it...and cried. Character death is my biggest tear trigger, so Optimus' death hit me really hard in the feels, even though I'm a Decepticon fangirl all the way. And so this one-shot was born! Although plot-bunnies are biting...so...there may be a second chapter.
> 
> Edit: Yes...there's now a 95% chance of there being a sequel, including more characters, parings and silly human antics. So keep the Kudos' and comments coming, they fuel me XD...comments more so, but I'm not that picky!


	2. New Hope, Old Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Rises up from the grave* I live! It's been almost two months and I am not sorry for taking a break
> 
> Since this story got the best feedback I've ever had (the people on Fanfiction seemed to like it more though), here's another one-shot. It's set one and a half months before the last section of the last chapter.
> 
> PS. IDW elements snuck into the plot because MTMTE is intoxicating and I need a canon TFP/IDW crossover. But since I can't have one (yet) I'll have to make my own.
> 
> PPS. The Shelter was the first restored building in Iacon, it's the equivalent to a human four/five star hotel, so that it can house all the new arrivals. It's also air tight, so with Wheeljack, Ratchet and Knock Out's help they made an oxygen regulator. This allows the humans to take their spacesuits off while all the doors and windows are closed. Then I throw logics out the window and say they can survive for 15 seconds if a door leading outside is kept open. The second scene takes place in what is basically The Shelter's mess hall/rec. room, because it's the biggest room.

~Knock Out's POV~

The scanner beeps for the third time and I almost don't look at it, but as the humans say: "third time's the charm". I bite my lip, pushing away the urge to whimper from the fear that's throbbing through me. Just before I can look, I choke as my tank feels like it's flipping. Clutching my abdominal plating with my free servo, I lean on the medical berth and double over. I swallow in a frantic attempt to not throw up. It works, unlike the last twenty times, it works. I sink to my knees, resting my helm against the edge of berth as I concentrate on evening my intakes.

With a shaky sob I look at the scanner.

My denta clench as I leap to my pedes and hurl the device across the room. It slams against the wall and I spin away from it. My knees hit the ground again, forehelm resting on the medical berth once more. With a weak _thump_ I hit the surface of it with my shaking fist. _Don't cry. It's all a nightmare, it can't be true, Breakdown will wake you up soon. Don't cry._

"Knock Out?!" the med bay doors open and Ratchet comes storming in, "What's all this racket ab-..."

I want to stand, I want to run, I don't want to talk about it. Talking, unburying these dark secrets for the entire Universe to see, that's what makes it real. But the agony, it won't let me stand and it also won't let me talk. If I opened my mouth the only things that would come out are cries of pain and despair. Why now? After so long, why now? This pain, it feels just as raw as it did when it all happened. Joy ripped from my grasp too soon and yet too late that it had all sunk in, had clicked that it was real.

I know better now.

The Autobot walks over to the fallen scanner, the stupid thing is still in one piece, screen still bright and taunting. "What happened?"

_Don't cry._

He picks the scanner up, I know exactly when he looks at it because it's rare for him to sound so surprised, "...Primus...you're-"

"Shut up!" I snarl, dragging my claws over the surface of the berth as I tremble and sob, "Just shut up! I know how to read the fragging thing!"

I can't.

I bend over, wrapping one arm around my chassis and covering my face with the other servo. Inside I struggle to hold back the tears, struggle to not scream.

"I take it you just found out for yourself," Ratchet murmurs as he puts the scanner on the bench and walks over to me.

"Terminate it."

He stops, "...What?"

"Get rid of it!" I dig my claws into my forehelm and side as the agony flares again, it's easier to deal with pain if it's physical, but then others can see it.

It's why I wax every orbital, why I buff my finish till it shines before I leave my quarters. Decepticons aren't meant to show pain. Couldn't let them see, couldn't let them know.

"...No."

"You're a medic!" I hiss, finally raising my helm and turning it to look at him, "It's your job to-"

"It's my damn job to heal others! Not kill innocent-"

"Fragging shut up!" I lunge up at him, claws ready to mangle his frowning face.

"Knock Out! Stop!" he catches my wrists and holds them in an iron grip, "Get ahold of yourself!"

I shutter my optics and bow my helm, shoulders hunching as my legs shake with protest from carrying more than my physical weight. The rage drains away as fast as it flared. _Don't cry. Don't cry._ His grip relaxes as he sees me calm down and I tug my servos away. My legs continue to quiver and I sit on the berth, covering my face with my servos. Ratchet sighs and sits on the other side with his back almost touching mine.

We sit there for a longtime, silent statues on the same cold base, save for my occasional whine and his soft huffs.

"Why don't you want it?" his tone is much gentler compared to before, he shifts behind me and I flinch as five digits curl over my shoulder plating.

"I...I can't," I swallow, voice coarse from withheld tears and the last bit of fight drains from my systems. I let the Universe see the darkness I've kept locked inside, "...I can't lose another one."

"Another? ...Oh, Primus...no..." He gets up and walks around to my side, sitting next to me and putting an arm around my shoulders, "It's okay to cry...I won't tell."

I let him pull me down with great care till my helm is laying on his lap and I pull my legs up onto the berth. The tears fall, my claws twitch and scratch at his legs on their own accord, but Ratchet doesn't complain. He just pets my side, rubs my audials and strokes my fin with his thumb. I cry and cry until I don't have any coolant left, yet still I sob, still I tremble. The older medic hushes me, comforts me, but never lies. Never does he say "It'll be okay" or "You're gonna be fine". I've heard those words before, lies, all of it lies. After a while I stop trembling, I stop scratching his paint. The only sounds that come out of my mouth are deep, shuddering intakes.

"Feeling a bit better now?" he murmurs as he rubs my twitching audial between his thumb and index digits.

I just nod in reply.

"Want me to comm Breakdown? Or don't you want him to know?"

I look up at him and sigh, "No, I'll do it."

~Breaky, you there?~

He answers immediately, sounding chirpy and upbeat, ~Knocks, what's up?~

The corner of my mouth curves up at the sound of his voice travelling through our Bond, ~We...could you come to the medical bay?~

~You okay?~

~I...I don't know, just come~

"Well?" Ratchet blinks and frowns.

"Yea, he's on his way," I mutter and turn away from him.

"I just need to know, before he gets here," the medic helps me sit back up and he stands, walking over to the cloth draw, "do you how he'll react?"

I give a sad chuckle, "He was over Lunar-One when he found out last time. I...I was indifferent on what happened to it, so his reaction swayed my decision on if I should keep it or not. I guess a lot of his joy rubbed off on me, because when...well, I don't know who reacted the most."

He hands me a cloth, "Did you sparkmerge around it?"

I frown and raise an optic ridge, "What? Why?"

"Well, a Bond is always formed after emergence. But if the Creators sparkmerge before the newspark moves into its frame then a basic Bond forms." he shrugs, "Common medic knowledge.

"I'm not a common medic," I huff, wiping the coolant off my face plates, "...And yes, we sparkmerged a fair few times... I think I lost count after the ninth one."

Ratchet sighs and crosses his arms, "Hmm, then that explains the severe level of grief. Seven merges is all that's needed to create a premature Bond. Anything afterwards only strengthens it."

"It never even got a frame," I mutter, tilting my helm to the side and wringing the cloth between my digits without thinking.

"Knocks," my mate's timing is, for once, impeccable as he rushes into the medical bay. He's by my side before the door even gets to close all the way, "Knocks, are you alright, you sounded up-"

"I'm fine," I smile, chuckling at his wide opticed, straight mouthed expression.

A heavy sensation in my spark that I wasn't aware of lifts as he plonks his aft down beside me and drapes an arm around my shoulders. I grin and laugh again, sobbing at the same time as new tears well up in my optics. Breakdown wraps his other arm around my front and pulls me close. I tremble against his chassis and bring my legs back onto the berth.

I can't stop smiling. No matter what, the presence of my mate after I've had a scrappy day will always make me feel better.

"You don't seem fine," he says, stroking my fin with his three middle digits, just how I like it.

"Let's just say he's better than what he was," Ratchet smiles as I start to purr from the blue bruiser's comforting touch.

I look at the Prime's mate and he looks right back, expression asking a question too clear to be mistaken for any other.

_Are you gonna tell him? Or am I?_

"Ratchet, could you..." I bite my lip and clench my servos into fists for a moment, letting them relax as I sigh, "Could you get the scanner."

The medic doesn't even say anything, he just gets the scanner from the bench and hands it to me, screen facing the floor.

"Knock Out?" Breakdown raises an optic ridge and releases me from his arms.

I turn the screen away from him, checking to see if it still has the same reading on it. It's still there, bright and taunting. I tear the oncoming storm of pain apart instead of burying it for a later date. It's so small, must have happened within the last Earth week or two. It takes around four Earth days for one to appear, then another day for the Carrier to feel its energy signature.

My mate places a servo on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. I flinch, clutching the scanner to my chassis and taking a deep breath, preparing myself for the inevitable.

To be honest, I have no idea how to break it to him other than giving him the device and saying: "Here."

He reaches for it, but hesitates, "Please don't tell me you have Cybercrosis."

I give him a small smile, "No..." then shove it into his servos, "j-just take it."

Breakdown looks at the screen, frowning in confusion. After a few seconds realisation dawns on his face plates, "Oh."

His EM field broadcasts an emotional cocktail of shock, pain, confusion, nostalgia and a faint buzz of joy. He looks at the scanner for a longtime and the only change in his expression is the slow, constant chewing of his lower lip.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and looks at me, "Um...are you gonna keep it?"

The combination of the lost look in his single optic, the flutter of joy in his field; the broken static buried under his sad tone and the very question itself...

The very question itself.

After everything he did last time. He was the one who kept bounding up to me with a scanner five times an orbital to see it move in my spark chamber. Was the one who scolded me every time I did anything even the slightest bit strenuous. The one who bombarded me with ideas for names at least four times every orbital. He did all that as well as so much more, every gesture filled my spark with happiness and excitement at the thought of being a Creator... This time the very first thing he says to me, the very first thing he asks me, is if I want to keep it.

It all breaks my spark, but I can't bring myself to lie to him.

"I...I don't know yet."

There's a small pause, then Ratchet speaks up, "Can I take a moment to say my two credits worth?"

"Hmm," I look at him and lift an optic ridge, "What?"

"Okay, just hear me out," he puts a servo on his hip and sighs, "I know you're not the most selfless mech around, but I also know you're not the most selfish."

I frown, wondering where he's heading with this, "Go on."

"It's just," he shrugs, yet his expression is that of a determined mech plotting to get his way no matter what, "while there has been a few new arrivals and only a small number of sparks have a new frame, there hasn't been a sparkling born the early days of the war. Bumblebee and Smokescreen were two of the last sparklings born who are still alive today."

Oh, I think I have an idea of where this is going now. I open my mouth to say something, but Ratchet holds a servo up.

"Ah yep, yep, yep," always with the 'yep', it really grinds my gears, "Now just hold it for a moment and let me finish. As I was saying, there hasn't been a sparkling born since the early days of the war. It wasn't on anyone's mind a few months ago, but the other day I heard some of the new arrivals muttering about why we're even rebuilding and yesterday Optimus brought up the lack of sparklings in one of our conversations."

"Did he ask if you wanted one?" I chuckle.

That throws the medic off guard, "Ah, n-no, actually," he growls and shakes his helm, "Look, what I'm trying to say is you have no idea how high it'll lift everyone's spirits and how much hope you'll give them if they knew you're sparked. A sparkling is new life Knock Out, new life is the ultimate symbol of renewal, of a fresh start for Cybertron. It's basically a message saying: yes, we can start again. Why do you think the soldiers from both factions fought so hard? Because they knew that if they won, they'd be clearing the way for the next generation to do it right their time. Well, there hasn't been a next generation since before Cybertron went dark."

For a while there's silence. Breakdown shifts a little and looks hopeful. I glare at Ratchet as he glares back.

The Autobot is the one to break the still air, "My point is: just this once, this one time, do something for our entire race, Knock Out. Be the one to give them hope. They've fought for so long, now all the fighting's stopped and they're beginning to wonder why they even bothered. By the Pit, I even heard a Decepticon talking a few days ago about how he was there when Megatron took down the Senate. He was regretting having ever picked up his rifle, even though his own brother was killed by the very ones who made him want to pick it up."

I sigh and look at my pedes, "I really don't know."

Ratchet steps forward and takes my servo in his, "Please, give them the hope that they need now more than ever. I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm certain that everyone, Decepticon and Autobot alike, will help raise it. I know you don't owe them anything, so do it for the future of Cybertron, for your home...for your sparkling."

**********

"That's all the updates there are for this week," Prowl finally finishes just as I'm about drift off into a peaceful recharge.

I groan and shift my helm, trying to find a more comfortable position for it on Breakdown's lap and I end up staring at the ceiling. My mate begins to stroke my fin to try and sooth my racing spark, but all it does is stop my servos from trembling.

"Does anyone have anything else to add?"

"Yep, yep, yep," so _annoying_ "I've got something."

The Praxian steps aside, "Do you need me or...?"

"As a medic I'd advise you to sit down," Ratchet chuckles, looking quite eager to give his announcement, "I don't want you crashing, because I'm not up for dragging your aft all the way down to the medical bay again."

Prowl sulks - or at least he sulks in the usual, undramatic Prowl-like manner - his way back into the crowd and sits bedside his mate, "I don't crash that much."

Jazz laughs and gives his mate a playful elbow to the waist, "Five times in the past orn is a record for you, sweetspark. I'd say you're simply upset that Ratch' just stole your thunder."

Everyone chuckles and a few bots start muttering. Miko moves to a better spot so she can continue to take photos with her cellphone. June chuckles as Jack and Raf follow her, the older male makes a futile attempt at getting the young female to sit still. She just snaps at him and goes back to photographing.

"Alright, calm down everyone," Ratchet tries to sound stern, but the faint grin on his face doesn't help. As soon as the room is still once more he claps his servos together and nods, "Thank you. Right then, I know you've all been talking and muttering while you work to rebuild Iacon, all the gossip was about random topics at first. Recently, however, I keep hearing one topic popping up in even the most simplest of smalltalk. The same topic that, for very good reason, is planting worry into all our sparks... Sparklings."

The muttering starts again, this time the air of the entire room is grimmer and void of all hope. The single word, which once meant nothing but pure joy so long ago, now forms a heavy burden on everyone's shoulders. I hadn't noticed it until now, but it really is a pressing matter. Some of the sparks asked for a new frame to be built for them, like Cliffjumper and Tailgate. But a vast majority wanted no part in helping their own species rebuild. Because they didn't want to watch the Decepticons and the Autobots tear each other apart all over again. So a lot of them returned to the Well, to save themselves from the disappointment.

Case in point, we're still tilting towards the brink of extinction.

"However," the medic gets the room's attention once more, some look at him with confused expressions while others stare on in hope, "there has been...a new development concerning the subject of discussion."

"What's a sparkling?" Miko suddenly calls out, shattering the tense air.

"I think humans call them...um..." Bulkhead scratches the back of his head and frowns, "Uh...you know, the little humans that haven't learnt how to use their legs yet."

"Wait," Jack holds his hands up as his eyes widen, "you mean...babies? As in...you guys can...can _reproduce_?"

"Of course we can," Ratchet huffs, "What? Did you think we all simply hopped out of the Well of Allsparks one fine morning and jumped into a frame that just happened to be lying around?"

~Well...this just got awkward~ Breakdown mutters.

~More like hilarious~ I struggle to not grin like an idiot at the flustered and confused humans.

"Right...now that that's taken care of-"

"How are they made?"

"Let's not go there, Miko!" Ratchet's cheek plates go from white to light blue in a matter of nanokliks, "Really...that's not for here."

~You do realise he's glancing at us~ I chuckle

~Yea, got an idea on what he's thinking?~ the corners of Wrecker's mouth twitch as he tries to repress a grin.

~I think you already know what that idea is~

~Sure do~

"Please," Ratchet sighs and rubs his forehelm, "just listen, you've already ruined the mood as it is."

"Well, I'm sorry for being curious about how an alien race lives," the female huffs and crosses her arms.

The medic ignores her and attempts to salvage the gripping air from before, "As I was saying, there has been a recent development in this point of discussion. I've been told very explicitly that I'm not allowed to name anyone. However, I can tell you this... There is someone, in this very room, who is..." he pauses, letting the tension gather till it snaps and he gives the crowd a broad smile, "Carrying."

I swear it feels like the floor itself vibrates at the sudden uproar. Some stare in shock, others cry out for a name and some speculate on who it is. As usual Miko's voice is the loudest, even though she sits among titans.

"Who's the lucky lady?!"

I'm glad for the chatter, because the snort of laughter I give is one of the most undignified sounds I've ever made. Ratchet waits this time for the crowd to settle, which takes a good five minutes, then his smile becomes a grim line set on his face.

"I just want to say a few things," the muttering stops and once again the attention of the room is in the medic's palm, "This bot wants to remain anonymous for now, this is because they want you all to be aware of something before they get swamped with congratulations and such. They wanted me to tell you that this...is not their first time carrying."

"There's a 'but' in there, isn't there?" Agent Fowler calls out.

"Yes," Ratchet sighs, "It's not their first time carrying. But hopefully, this second time around, it'll be the first to live."

The air becomes grim and solemn all of a sudden. Breakdown's optic widens and I fight back the tears as I feel what he does. EM fields, every single bot's EM field reaching out and touching everyone else. Both Autobots and Decepticons alike, all murmuring the same message in this silent room: _We are here for you, you are not alone this time._

"Can I...can I just say something?" Jazz gets up and strides to the front of the room, Ratchet moves to the side to allow him to take centre stage, "Now, I know that all of us are thinking the same thing. I know that deep down, no matter how hard we try to hide it, we're all thinking: why are you bringing a sparkling into a post-war world? Well screw that, because why not try again after losing so much in one Sparkbreaking moment?"

He let's the words settle as everyone shifts with discomfort.

Then he continues, "I've seen my fair share of soldiers experience a miscarriage. I've seen some who tore out their own gestation chamber so they never had to go through it again, some who terminated it if they got sparked again. Pit, I've friends self-terminate because they couldn't take the grief. I want the bot in this room who never did any of those things to hear me out. On behalf of Cybertron, on behalf of our entire race and on behalf of all those brave warriors who gave their lives because they dreamt of this day: Thank you for being the first to step up and restart our race, for giving us something that'll brighten our future. I say this without giving any frags as to whether you were an Autobot or a Decepticon. Just...thanks."

I sit up and give a few deep vents, ~I can't stay silent any more~

Breakdown puts his servo on mine, ~I'm right here~

Over the cheering and clapping of the crowd I manage to yell, "You know what Jazz," a few close by bots turn to look at me, but I ignore them, "I was gonna keep everyone guessing," some more helms turn, "but because of that beautiful speech," half the room is looking at me now, "I'll tell you all," all optics on me, "that I'm the bot you're talking to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like it should end there, so don't accuse me of anything! Next up we'll most likely be seeing Megatron.
> 
> Also this took me, like, five days to write. That's the fastest I've ever written a decent sized, good quality story/chapter in...I am very proud of myself.
> 
> I'll never get over the mental image of Jack's face as he suddenly realises "Oh my god, they have _dicks!_ "


End file.
